


Lightning in Your Eyes

by Sister_Grimm



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Gym, Alternate Universe - High School, Attempted Rape, Cisco is 20, Hartley is 16, Hartley's Life Sucks, Homophobia, Laurel Lance is a Gift, M/M, Violence, so much swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-15 17:28:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7231933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sister_Grimm/pseuds/Sister_Grimm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hartley has 99 problems and long haired hot boxers are at least one of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lightning in Your Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by cute boys at my martial arts gym

Hartley sighs as he picks his glasses up off the ground and dabs at his bloody nose with his sleeve before looking up at his rescuer who offers him her hand. He's too beaten up to reject the offer and lets her help him stand.

"This happen a lot?", she asks.

He nods.

"I run a boxing and martial arts gym. You should come by." He raises an eyebrow and she just smiles at him.

"It can't hurt.", he acknowledges.

And she kind of laughs, "You say that now." She holds her hand out again, "Dinah Laurel Lance."

He shakes it, "Hartley Rathaway. Nice to meet you, Ms. Lance ...er I guess." He's gonna have bruises for days.

"Please, it's Laurel. I'll see you around, Hartley?" And with that she hands him her card and walks away.

He looks at the card, Foundry Martial Arts it reads and it lists an address not far from where he lives. But he doesn't have time to check it out now, he really needs to get to work.

But when he gets home he pulls up the website. They advertise trainers who were in the military and numerous championships and Hartley notices that there is a beginner boxing class at 7 the next day so he resolves that he should at least check it out. 

***

Foundry is in a vaguely sketchy looking brick building with graffiti on one of the walls but he shoves open the door and heads down to the basement like the signs tell him, his bag of workout clothes tapping against his leg as he pays for the membership.

Laurel is stretching in the corner, talking to a tall man with several visible tattoos and she smiles when she sees him, and walks over.

"Hi, Hartley. Glad you made it out."

"I can use the help.", he says honestly.

***

They're in the middle of learning a basic combo when a man walks in who catches Hartley's attention instantly. About Hartley's height with long dark hair which he's half brushing out of his face, half pulling into a ponytail as he slips into the locker room and Hartley is briefly distracted but no one seems to notice as he puts his hands back up before running through the combo again. He watches the guy in the mirror as he swings himself over the ropes of the boxing ring and taps gloves with the guy Laurel had been talking to.

"Hands, Hartley.", Laurel chastises out of nowhere with a smile and he pulls his hands back up by his face. "Better."

It's actually oddly zen, focusing only on his breathing and his movements. The music has a heavy bass line and it feels like it's in time with his heart every time he moves. And every time his ribs twinge when he breathes is a reminder of why he's there.

***

He's on his way out as he watches Cute Guy lean over the reception desk to talk to the blonde with glasses behind the desk, and he takes a moment to appreciate Cute Guy's ass as he moves to slip past them.

"Hartley!", Laurel stops him before he leaves, "How did you feel about your first class?"

"Good.", he smiles, "I'll definitely be back."

"Good.", she smiles and just for a moment Hartley feels Cute Guy's eyes linger on him and he feels himself start to blush as he hurries away.

He pulls out his phone and texts Wally, "Help! I have 99 problems and cute long haired guys who box are apparently one of them."

He gets a laughing cry emoji back and glares at his phone.

"See if I show any sympathy to your Linda issues ever again.", he texts in response.

***

When he gets home from class Lisa is painting her toenails with nail polish he knows she can't afford and lecturing Mick on his flame heavy cooking style.

"Where's Len?", he asks.

"Work. He's working like 14 hours today.", Lisa explains.

Hartley cringes sympathetically. 

"How was the gym?", she asked.

"Good. Seems like they know their stuff."

She nods, "As much as I think you knowing how to defend yourself is good, just tell Len who's bugging you."

"I can handle it, Lees.", Hartley insists. 

She eyes his split lip and bruised cheek very skeptically, "Whatever you say, Hart."

He sighs and grabs his math homework from his room as he starts solving problems over a plate of the latest Mick delicacy. For such a rough guy, Hartley thinks it's hilarious that Mick is a fantastic cook but man, the man has a gift. Hartley's at the dinner table while Lisa is eating at the coffee table and Mick is leaning beside the stove. Animals, Hartley thinks almost affectionately. 

The math isn't as difficult as it should be considering it's a senior year AP Calculus class, but oh well, Hartley supposes this is what people mean when they say "the struggle is real." So he puzzles through it relatively quickly listening to atmospheric techno. And maybe gets a little distracted thinking about Cute Guy from the gym because hey, he's a 16 year old gay guy, his options are limited. Not that he has any idea about Cute Guy's sexuality but hey, he has a good imagination for this stuff. And he's getting increasingly more into his head and almost jumps when Len comes in through the backdoor. "Christ, Len!", he yelps, much less dignified than he usually tries to pretend. 

"Sorry, tried to be quiet.", Len sighs, the stress of his day written all over his face. "You should get to sleep, kid."

He glances over at the clock, it is almost midnight. He wants to trill, "Yes, mom " like Lisa does but his mother never would have said something like that so instead he laughs and says, "Yes sir." And Len rolls his eyes.

Hartley gathers up his school stuff and slips over down to the unfinished basement where he sleeps. Lisa gets her own room and Len and Mick share but Hartley would take mildly creepy and uncomfortable over no privacy any day. He tugs his shirt over his head and traces his hands over purple bruises, poking one or two lower on his torso. "Fuck.", he breathes quietly, kicking off his jeans and swapping them for a pair of sweatpants stolen from Len's laundry last year. He has to tie them super tight and they smell like him not Len now but he still associates them with feeling safe. The sofa bed is better than the street at least and he tugs the heap of blankets up to his bare shoulders.

***  
He wakes up to his alarm and the sound of someone having a shower and his whole body feels like one large sore muscle as he attempts to drag himself out of bed. 

Moving slowly he eventually makes an appearance for coffee, bad coffee but still. Lisa is on her phone over her breakfast and she laughs, "You look like you're 50."

"I am so sore.", he grumbles.

She grins back, "That's a good sign."

"I understand that but also ow."

Mick is glaring at them to get out the door before he has to go to work and finally Lisa grabs her keys off the table beside the couch, "We're going, we're going."

For two part-time criminals Mick and Len are incredibly particular about attendance. Hartley figures it's the tax evasion problem. If Child Welfare gets involved, life gets difficult for all of them. 

Wally and Linda are chatting near the entrance and Hartley makes a beeline for them before Mardon or Harkness can see him and Wally cringes, "Dude, your face."

Linda looks at him and glances over at Mark and Digger and the associated football team members, "Fucking animals.", she mutters harshly.

"I'm fine, guys, just a little bruised."

"Seriously, Hartley, talk to my dad sometime.", Wally says.

"I can handle it.", Hartley promises.

"So what's the deal with Mr. 99 Problems?", Linda asks changing the subject awkwardly.

Hartley turns and glares at Wally, "I went to a boxing gym yesterday, there was a cute guy there. Apparently hot long haired boxers are a subset of my type."

"We're in high school, 'member of my desired gender, consenting and breathing' is our type.", Wally laughs.

Linda rolls her eyes, "Or at least it's a start."

The bell rings and Hartley heads up to his locker to drop off his stuff. While he's digging through his locker he hears someone approach and he tenses before peering around the corner. It's neither Mark or Digger, but it's the only person in the school who might be worse. Mr. Wells, the math teacher Hartley is 99% sure is trying to sleep with him. He takes a step back to put some distance between them but the hallway is deserted and Mr. Wells grabs his chin and manipulates it slowly to see the damage to Hartley's face. "Nurse's office, Hartley, now."

He cringes, he hates being alone with Mr. Wells, the guy just makes him uncomfortable. Far too much, "You're special, you're my guy." But he follows him to the nurse's office and she has conveniently stepped out, leaving them alone in a windowless room and Hartley wonders if anyone would hear him if he screamed. Mr. Wells is standing too close behind him and he can't figure out if he's feeling Mr. Wells' hardon or if his fear is making shit up. Finally he turns to face him and Mr. Wells asks, "Who did this?"

"No man.", Hartley says flatly.

"Very clever.", his response is almost saccharine sweet. "You can trust me, Hartley." And Mr. Wells steps a bit closer.

No, Hartley thinks, I really can't.

But the door opens and Wells smiles brightly at the nurse who looks like she can't figure out if she should call the cops or leave them be.

"I think our dear Mr. Rathaway needs something to reduce the bruising."

Hartley nods, words failing him as the nurse gives Mr. Wells serious side eye but asks Hartley to take off his glasses so she can dab some anti bruising cream around his eye.

Mr. Wells insists on accompanying him to his class and explaining to Mr. Stein exactly why Hartley was late and he sinks into a chair in the far corner of the room and pulls his hood over his head.

He starts doodling new songs in the margins of his notebook and is only sort of paying attention when they get their latest exams back.

***

Wally drags him out for burgers and fries during their spare and talks about girl trouble. It would be adorable if it wasn't so amusingly tragic. There's Jesse, the BFF girl next door who Wally is like, one step away from trying to play doctor with but also there's Linda, who is popular and clever and how can anyone expect him to choose?

Hartley strongly considers pouring his milkshake on Wally just to make him shut up. Unfortunately while he's internally debating the value of a Wally West wet t-shirt contest (he has eyes, ok). Digger Harkness walks by shouting, "Have a nice date, queers!"

Wally flips him off and Hartley yells back, "Very original."

Lisa is God knows where at the end of the school day, ditching or hopefully, in the smoke pit so he opts to head that way and hope he still has a ride home. Unfortunately this means passing by a contingent of football players clustered around Harkness's locker. Harkness isn't paying attention, too busy puffing his own ego, if Hartley had to guess but Mark Mardon catches his eye and mimes giving someone a blowjob. Hartley flips him off but an embarrassed flush is climbing up his neck and Mardon just gives him a knowing smirk as Hartley fixes his eyes on the floor.

He pushes his way past the art room and out into the smoke pit where he spots Lisa sharing a cigarette with a burnout, Roscoe something or other. 

"Need a ride?", Lisa asks with a smile.

Hartley pauses, shakes his head, between Mardon and Wells he needs to blow off some steam so he decides to head to the open hours at Foundry.

***

Foundry isn't totally dead, Laurel is there and so are a few other people, including the long haired cutie, listening to music and shadow boxing in the far corner. And as she did yesterday, Laurel smiles when she sees him. 

He waves and goes to change. When he straps on his loaner gloves, Laurel walks over with Cute Guy beside her, "Hartley, this is Cisco, one of our semi-pro fighters. I was thinking he could give you a bit of a crash course since you're both here."

Like Hartley is going to say no to that. So he nods and then coughs, "Yeah, that sounds ...enlightening." She winks at him as she turns to talk to Buff and Tattooed. 

"Who's that other guy?", Hartley asks, turning to Cute Guy...er, Cisco.

Cisco raises an eyebrow, "Oh, that's Oliver. He's Laurel's husband and they run the joint."

"He's a real piece.", Hartley mutters appreciatively. Then he pauses, probably with a total oh crap look on his face.

"That why you're here, to eat the eye candy?" As though the bruises on Hartley's face aren't still visible. 

Hartley tenses, he knows Cisco is trying to crack a joke, "Something like that.", he mutters eventually. 

There's a brief moment of awkward silence before Cisco leads him over to the punching bag. "Alright, let's see what you've got."

Hartley moves slow, focuses on technique, the way he did when he was learning how to play the flute and Cisco nods approvingly, "Nice."

"How long have you been doing this for?", Hartley asks.

"Ten years? But uh, not always in a place like this.", Cisco muses. Begging the question of how old is he exactly but Hartley has no idea how to ask that covertly.

Laurel wanders over and holds the bag in place, giving it more resistance as Cisco tells him to try for speed as opposed to power, "You're small. Sometimes speed can do more than pure power." Hartley's arms feel like they weigh a thousand pounds and Cisco's t-shirt has ridden up and he can feel his ears turning pink. Damn fair skin so he turns back to the bag and Laurel smiles encouragingly.

"Give me 50 jabs as fast as you can.", she says.

He counts out loud and feels the bag give even just a little bit even with Laurel holding it in place. At 50 , he can't help but drop his hands like they're on fire and Laurel taps him lightly upside the head before she walks away. 

"You're a fast learner.", Cisco says with a smile and he raises his hand to fistbump Hartley's glove. 

"Thanks.", Hartley mumbles.

"Here, I'll give you my number so we can do this again sometime.", Cisco says with a grin.

Hartley tries not to look too obviously excited as Cisco plugs in his phone number.

***

That Friday, Lisa drags him to a party at Mark Mardon's place because Len and Mick have stuff to do. He's not sure if that means work, crime, or each other. Alternate explanation: Lisa secretly hates him. But he's four beers in, people watching from a corner. It's loud, and Hartley hates loud. He doesn't trust these people, either. Not with himself, and equally not with Lisa.

But abruptly someone crashes into him and the beer sloshes over him, "Well, I guess you should take that off." And Hartley hears that voice in his nightmares, Mark fucking Mardon is leering at him, his hands at the hem of Hartley's shirt. 

"What the fuck.", Hartley says and he's drunk so it comes out more like dull surprise.

(Wally always did say he thought Mark was a three beer queer.)

Mark is pushing up against him, holding Hartley in place as he says, "Nice legs, what time do they open?"

"Mardon, what the fuck.", Hartley reiterates, no less confused as Mark drags him into a dusty bedroom. The walls have sports clippings and honour roll awards, and it looks like no one has lived here in a while.

Oh. It's Clyde's room, Hartley realizes. He'd heard about the accident and he's seen the memorial in the trophy case at school but he hadn't known Clyde Mardon personally.

He's being pushed up against the door, Mark's hands wandering as he presses his lips against Hartley's, rolling his hips urgently. And Hartley rapidly realizes he can't fucking move. Mark has 6 inches and 50 pounds on him. And well, Mark is certainly into this and ok, Hartley's body is having all sort of traitorous reactions to Mark's movements. "I hate your stupid gorgeous face, Hartley.", he hears Mark mutter as he undoes the buttons on his jeans, one hand sliding up to Hartley's shoulder. "I bet you look fucking fantastic on your knees. Fucking born to suck cock, Hartley." 

Oh fuck, Hartley realizes in horror. He needs to get the fuck out of this situation, now. "I swear to God, Mardon. I will bite it off.", he hisses. 

"I think you want this too. I see you, you know. Watching me." And then Mark tries to shove him down, and the press of Mark's body holding Hartley in place is gone and he throws the best punch he can muster and he connects, Mark stumbling back as Hartley turns tail. 

He pulls out his phone and dials the only person who is suitably separated from the situation.

"Hello?"

"Cisco? It's uh Hartley from the gym." And his voice is shaking. To go with his hands of course. "I uh, I need some help. Can you pick me up?"

"Yeah, where are you?", Cisco's voice instantly switches from sleepy to painfully alert and Hartley gives him the address.

10 minutes later a car pulls up and Cisco waves at him under the street light. "Are you ok?"

"I'm fine.", Hartley snaps as he gets into the car and both of them ignore that he's shaking.

They sit in silence for about five minutes before Cisco says, "Where am I taking you?"

"Home.", he pauses, "I'll direct you."

They've barely left the Mardons' street when Hartley says, "You know as flattering as it is to find out that beatings are this guy's idea of romance, I could have done without him trying to stick his dick down my throat." He means to sound bitter, but it comes out a little broken and Cisco's hands are white knuckled at the steering wheel.

"Hartley, has anything like this happened before?"

"I'm not a virgin.", Hartley fires back and Cisco looks horrified. "Oh. You mean. No, no. Nothing like that."

Cisco seems to relax slightly. "That's why you come to Foundry."

Hartley nods.

"I get that. I started learning how to fight when I was 10 because I was small and nerdy and already getting beat up.

"So you're in your twenties now?", Hartley asks.

"Twenty. You?"

"Sixteen." And Cisco grinds the gears when he shifts after Hartley says that.

"You're only sixteen.", Cisco mutters and then he curses in Spanish. Hartley neglects to mention he speaks the language when Cisco mutters, "I am going to hell."

They pull up in front of Casa Rorysnartaway and Hartley smiles, "I didn't get a chance to thank you properly for rescuing me." And he leans over and kisses Cisco tantalizingly slowly, full of 'there's more where that came from'. Cisco stiffens in his seat and kisses him back just for a second before pulling back.

"You're a kid and you're drunk. No." The urge to pout is real but before he gets out of the car, Cisco continues, "We have some friendly competitions on the weekends, you should check it out. Tomorrow, 7pm to 10."

Hartley nods, suddenly filled with promise. He gets off work at 5.

***

He's definitely a little hungover when he wakes up to go to work but on his way up he hears retching and concludes Lisa is probably a lot hungover. Thought since he has an opening shift he's amazed Lisa's even conscious, she must feel like crap.

He's about to blow out the door when Lisa stops him, "Don't bail on me like that again. You scared me."

"I'm sorry. Just uh, not my scene.", he says apologetically.

"Mark Mardon was looking for you actually. It was weird."

"That is super weird.", he says trying to disguise the shake in his voice.

He's hoping the bookstore will be pretty dead today and Shawna smiles when she sees him, "Well, you don't look like you ended up in a meat processor anymore." He glares but he knows better than to flip off a coworker and he really really regrets not having prescription sunglasses. Fucking hangovers. This is why he never drinks. And Shawna floats away, giggling to herself as she goes to help a customer.

He's in Starbucks on his break, because y'know coffee is life and all that as Jesse always says. His phone had vibrated while he was working, text message. From Cisco apparently, once he gets a chance to look at it.

"How are you holding up today?"

"Hungover.", he texts back. He's not sure if that's the answer to the question Cisco was asking but it's the answer he's getting. 

The bookstore is quiet, though he runs into at least one couple making out in the romance novel section. Classy. Fucking straight people.

***

He gets to Foundry at 6 and it's actually busier than he's ever seen it, though he's still only been a handful of times. Classic rock is thumping through the stereo system. Cisco is chatting with a cute brunet with Abercrombie good looks and a petite girl with sharp features so before he can chicken out, he walks over and Cisco smiles at him.

"Hartley, Thea Queen and Roytoy."

"You are going to die tonight.", Roy says flatly.

Cisco laughs, "Roy and I go way back." And Roy is scratching at the inside of his arm and Thea elbows him lightly.

"So who's against who?", Hartley asks, changing the subject because he is obviously missing something.

"Diggle against Oliver, Me against Roy, Laurel against Nyssa, and Sara against Thea.", Cisco explains.

Hartley nods and smiles flirtatiously, "Good luck."

"He'll need it.", Roy teases.

A bell dings and Laurel and a woman Hartley doesn't recognize square up in the ring. "Nyssa.", Cisco explains, stating what in retrospect was probably a statement of the obvious. Laurel is good, a performer but Nyssa is a technician, more straight skill over talent. It's a interesting match. Nyssa wins but it's close. They're obviously not trying to do real damage but it's a little unavoidable. Laurel's lip is bleeding and Nyssa is rubbing her shin with a genuine grin on her face.

"Uh-oh, Ollie, your lady is trying to steal mine.", a blonde in the corner yells.

Oliver laughs, "Please, Sara. Your girl is obviously trying to steal my lady." Nyssa and Laurel roll their eyes and bump gloves with a smile.

The bell dings and the receptionist grins, "Roy, Cisco!"

"Fight Club!", Thea yells.

Hartley raises an eyebrow and Thea laughs, "They both learned street fighting first. They are vicious fuckers."

"First fucking rule, Thea!", Cisco calls back and he shucks off his shirt and wow, ok Hartley knew he was probably in good shape but buff arms, defined stomach, biomech tattoo on a section of his chest, lean but not small. Roy's more solidly built but definitely rangy. Both fight only with hand wraps and barefoot. 

"Welcome to Foundry Fight Club?", the receptionist teases.

"I am Jack's impulse control?", Cisco jokes back. And the bell dings.

It's much more vicious than Nyssa and Laurel but still on the right side of fun. He thinks. Thea is cheering. He can definitely see where they both pull back as though they were about to fight dirty. It's a different training set but Laurel's influence is strong particularly in Roy, who repeats several moves Laurel had used to great effect against Nyssa but Cisco comes out on top despite a split lip and a bleeding nose.

He taps Roy's fist and hops over the rope, heading towards the locker room. Hartley waits all of three minutes and follows him. When he steps into the locker room, Cisco is still shirtless, hair down and in the process of buttoning up his jeans, nose definitely a bit crooked and he sort of pokes it back into place with a cringe and Hartley walks purposefully towards him, appreciates the sheen of sweat on darker skin and says, "I'm not drunk this time." And he kisses Cisco, leaning him back against the counter but giving him plenty of room.

"You're still a kid.", Cisco murmurs between heated kisses.

"Give me a chance?"

"After last night are you sure..."

"Yes." Hartley says firmly.

***

After the fights, the receptionist (her name is Felicity, Hartley finally learns) explains that they all go to Denny's and Cisco hoists his gym bag over his shoulder. "You should come with us.", he says with a smile.

Hartley smiles, "Sounds fun."

Cisco offers to drive him over there and the about 10 of them commandeer as many tables as they can.

"So uh, Cisco. What do you do when you're not punching things?", Hartley asks.

"Mech Engg at the university. I'm a third year." Oh. All that and smart too. Hartley was so fucked.

"Nice. I've been thinking I'll probably go into engineering.", Hartley says even though reminding Cisco of their age difference seems like the opposite of helping his case. He glances over at Laurel who is smiling at Thea and Roy over a pile of pancakes. "How did you get involved with Foundry?", Hartley asks.

Cisco smiles, "Roy and I grew up together and when he started coming here, he said I should too. They're good people. I've seen Laurel turn people's lives around."

Hartley nods and they fall into pleasant silence over their food and he can see Oliver give Roy an "I'm watching you" glare when he and Thea look like they're getting too cuddly.

Diggle is watching them and finally says, "So you're in high school, Hartley?"

He nods and he can see Cisco looking intently at his bacon as though it suddenly became very interesting.

"Shouldn't you be in bed?", Diggle continues.

Hartley rolls his eyes, "I'm 16, not 5." And he hears Cisco muffle a chuckle. Diggle just raises an eyebrow at the hostility of Hartley's response.

He doesn't apologize.

***

The next time he runs into Mark Mardon, it's Monday at 10 AM and he's alone in the art room during his Wally free spare.

He's listening to some techno Cisco recommended and doodling melodies in his notebook so he doesn't notice the door slam shut until Mark grabs him and throws him against the wall. Hartley notices, with some degree of pride, that Mark has an obvious bruise on his face.

"So did you tell your boyfriend about me?"

"1. What boyfriend? 2. Tell him what about you?", Hartley gasps out, Mark's arm is dangerously close to his windpipe.

"The guy who picked you up on Friday, he's your boyfriend right?"

"Did you follow me after I punched you?"

"Just answer the fucking question.", Mark snaps, punching him hard enough that his head hits the wall behind him and his ears are ringing.

"No, I didn't tell anyone you tried to stick your dick down my throat." It's a lie, but the only person he's told is Cisco.

"A hole's a hole.", Mardon snarls.

Hartley laughs dryly, "If you believed that you wouldn't be here half hard and looking terrified." And he rolls his hips against Mark's to prove his point.

"Fucking fag.", Mark hisses

"Takes one to know one, Mardon.", Hartley says smirking and Mark hits him again but Hartley cracks him in the face with an elbow. Thank you, Cisco. Mark drops him and Hartley takes another swing, this one misses though. He can feel the blood dripping from his nose and he stumbles a bit. "This is as close as you are ever going to get to fucking me, Mardon. Your glaring personality flaws really detract from your looks."

Mark knees him in the stomach and he spits up blood as he crumples, feeling Mardon deliver several sharp kicks to his ribs when the bell rings and he pauses before stomping down on Hartley's chest. It takes a few minutes after he hears the door close before he tries to get off the floor, pain spreading up his ribs and out past his chest. His nose is bleeding and his head is throbbing as he slips through the empty hallway to the nearest bathroom to cleanup.

***

He drags his battered self to Foundry at the end of the school.

"Christ, Hartley.", Felicity blurts out.

And Diggle approaches him, "You need to go to a hospital."

"Can't afford it.", Hartley mutters.

Diggle sighs, "I'll give you a look over, but if I say you go to the hospital, you go."

"You?", Hartley says in surprise.

"Three tours. I know injuries."

So Diggle helps him take his bloody shirt off, and there's a boot print where Mardon stomped and after pressing it a bit Diggle concludes, "You'd know if your sternum was broken." Hartley knows he going to have a ton of bruising and Diggle sighs, "Nose is definitely broken, you probably have a concussion and your ribs are either bruised or broken. Lucky for you, none of that requires a doctor."

It's then that Cisco walks in, and sees Hartley battered and bruised laying on the locker room bench. "Holy fuck, Hartley, are you ok?"

"Bruised but ok.", Hartley says and awkwardly pulls his shirt back on. 

"It's a miracle nothing more than your nose is broken.", Diggle says. "The concussion is the most dangerous part."

"I'm gonna be here for about an hour but do you want to have dinner at my place after?" 

"Like, a date?", Hartley asks with a wicked grin.

"Christ, you really are 16. Yes, like a date.", Cisco says. 

Hartley smiles and Diggle helps him hobble out to the benches on the side of the gym. "Don't close your eyes.", Diggle cautions. With a view like this, why would he want to? Cisco is shirtless as he trains, white headphone cords visible as he jumps rope. 

Felicity keeps looking at him with concern and his phone buzzes. "Dude, are you ok?", the text from Wally reads.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just had a run in with Mardon."

Diggle sits beside him and hands him some water, "I should probably tell you to go to the cops. Whoever did this could have done real damage."

"I can take a punch.", Hartley assures him.

Diggle gives him a concerned look but Diggle doesn't ask and Hartley doesn't tell.

He pulls out his phone and gives Len a heads up he won't be home for dinner. And he watches Cisco. Eventually Diggle gets up and walks over to Cisco, pointing at the ring. They're drastically different sizes, Diggle having nearly a foot and 100 pounds of muscle on Cisco so it's not at all like watching Cisco and Roy fight. Cisco compensates with speed, being light on his feet.

Felicity looks at him and finally gets up and walks over, "I'm not sure it's my business but Laurel's dad is on the force."

"Yeah, so is the father of a friend of mine. I can take care of myself."

"Hartley...", she pauses, "For what it's worth, you shouldn't have too."

***

Cisco, he learns, shares a fourth floor three bedroom apartment with three other students a few blocks from the university. They take the stairs. Hartley whines. Cisco laughs, "I'll take pity this time but it's great exercise." And he unlocks the door, hip checking it because it's mildly warped. The first thing Hartley notices is that's pretty small. As he steps inside, he notices that there are a million posters and pinned to the fridge are several Polaroids. 

"You know Barry Allen?", Hartley says in surprise, looking at a Polaroid of Barry and Iris at Christmas.

"Yeah, he's one of my roommates and a good friend. You know Barry?"

"Yeah, Wally West is a friend of mine."

Cisco laughs, "Small world." He digs through various menus. "How does pizza sound, there's a sick deep dish place around the corner. I can order for pickup? Don't think you're in quite the state where you want to go out for dinner?"

Hartley shakes his head and Cisco continues, "How does pepperoni sound?"

"That's good.", Hartley says with a tense smile and Cisco places the order while Hartley wanders around the small living room. There's precariously piled movies and a large poster of the Vitruvian Man beside the tv and text books on just about every surface.

"Sorry, Caitlin tries but we are slobs. C'mon, we'll chill in my room.", Cisco laughs. The poster explosion continues into Cisco's room. A signed Battlestar Galactica poster, Star Trek, Star Wars, a whiteboard covered in schematics. The covers on the bed are tossed around and there is an open face down textbook tangled in the sheets. 

Hartley sinks on to the bed and it's more comfortable than the one at home and Cisco sits down beside him, "You know, if you want to talk about any of it..."

"What if I want to not talk?", Hartley cuts him off with a smirk, leaning in and kissing Cisco, hands slipping up along the smooth skin under Cisco's shirt.


End file.
